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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25802575">unquiet touch</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordstruck/pseuds/wordstruck'>wordstruck</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>flutterbird (a collection of sakuatsu one-shots) [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Barebacking, Cunnilingus, Established Relationship, Glove Kink, Hand &amp; Finger Kink, Lingerie, M/M, PIV Sex, Post-Canon, Trans Male Character, Trans Sakusa Kiyoomi, canonverse, mild bondage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 10:34:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,216</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25802575</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordstruck/pseuds/wordstruck</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Kiyoomi doesn’t move, doesn’t do anything except watch Atsumu’s face as he traces the ruffles of fabric under his fingers. There’s a dent in Kiyoomi’s thigh where the elastic digs in. Then Atsumu’s hand wanders higher, past the garters and up to scalloped lace wrapped around a bony hip.</p><p>“Omi-kun,” Atsumu murmurs, a little breathless, and when he flicks his gaze up to meet Kiyoomi’s eyes his expression is downright hungry. “Have ya been wearin’ this <i>all fuckin’ day</i> without telling me?”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>flutterbird (a collection of sakuatsu one-shots) [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1643680</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>458</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>unquiet touch</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>written as a commission for <a href="https://twitter.com/Mei_umu">Umu</a>, who requested post-olympics sakuatsu with trans!sakusa + lingerie + hand kink. the hand/glove kink ended up being more subtle but u fuckin bet sakusa is enjoying being touched.</p><p>i had a lot of fun writing this fic, and i'm imploring all of you guys to please join in on a sakusa+lingerie trend, please, just think about it he's so hot. also, i'm very here for the HC that sakusa just keeps calling atsumu "miya" even when they're dating, but atsumu doesn't mind (it's just how they are, miya and omi-omi). sakusa saves <i>atsumu</i> for special occasions hahaha.</p><p>language used for sakusa's body is mostly neutral! this is mostly edited, but i'll fix anything in retrospect. i'm fairly confident no limbs are out of place.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p> </p><p>Atsumu wakes up to the scent of coffee.</p><p>He doesn’t remember falling back asleep, but sometime after lunch he’d apparently drifted off. He’s still on the couch where he and Kiyoomi had been watching Cowboy Bebop — or rather he’d been watching, while Kiyoomi had been reading. There’s an episode running, but he turns his attention to the rustling sounds in the kitchen. </p><p>Sitting up and stretching, Atsumu peers over the back of the couch to find Kiyoomi standing by the counter, mug in hand. He’s still wearing the oversized button-down from this morning, when they’d dropped by Osamu’s shop to get food like they usually do on days off. A corner of Atsumu’s mouth quirks as he stands, tucking his feet into his common room slippers and padding over.</p><p>“Gimme a sip,” he quips, sidling up to Kiyoomi. The other man shoves him away with a palm to his face, but Atsumu doesn’t miss the amusement in Kiyoomi’s eyes.</p><p>“Make your own coffee,” Kiyoomi mutters, lifting his mug back to his mouth. Atsumu tracks the motions, the bob of a throat on a swallow, the subtle flick of Kiyoomi’s tongue as he chases the stray drops of liquid. He smirks, choosing instead to insinuate himself into Kiyoomi’s personal space. Kiyoomi cocks an eyebrow, but doesn’t pull away as Atsumu leans up and in, caging him against the kitchen counter for a kiss that tastes of bitter caffeine. When Atsumu pulls away, he makes a brief show of licking his own lips, grinning.</p><p>“Kinda like it better this way, actually,” he muses, cheeky, then chuckles when Kiyoomi rolls his eyes. Atsumu takes the mug from Kiyoomi’s hand, chasing away the man’s protests with another, deeper kiss as he sets the drink aside and presses forward. One hand reaches up, threads through soft curls; the other moves lower, tracing a slow, teasing path up one of Kiyoomi’s long legs and creeping under the hem to—</p><p>Kiyoomi clearly notes the moment Atsumu’s brain short-circuits, because there’s a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. He doesn’t move, doesn’t do anything except watch Atsumu’s face as he traces the ruffles of fabric under his fingers. There’s a dent in Kiyoomi’s thigh where the elastic digs in. Then Atsumu’s hand wanders higher, past the garters and up to scalloped lace wrapped around a bony hip.</p><p>“Omi-kun,” Atsumu murmurs, a little breathless, and when he flicks his gaze up to meet Kiyoomi’s eyes his expression is downright <em> hungry. </em> “Have ya been wearin’ this <em> all fuckin’ day </em>without telling me?”</p><p>Kiyoomi shrugs, careless. His next inhale comes up short as Atsumu curls his fingers under the lace, tracing down the crease from hip to groin. At the same time, he ducks his head to press an open-mouthed kiss to Kiyoomi’s neck. He’s rewarded with a full-bodied shudder, making him smirk against warm skin.</p><p>“Well,” he hums, reaching both hands down to cup just under Kiyoomi’s ass and haul him close. “Would be rude not ta take a look, yeah?”</p><p> </p><p>Eight minutes later and Atsumu has Kiyoomi sprawled out on their bed, although not without some effort. But it had been worth the frustration to get him like this — poured onto the sheets like expensive sake, hands bound overhead with a necktie snagged from their closet. Atsumu kneels at the foot of the bed, expression dark and <em> wanting, </em>drinking it all in. He’s shirtless now, loose black pants low on his hips, expensive lambskin gloves covering his hands. Kiyoomi’s gone through all this effort for him, after all; the least Atsumu can do is return the favor.</p><p>“Look at’cha,” he murmurs, sliding a palm up the outside of Kiyoomi’s calf and reveling in the way Kiyoomi shifts, squirms from it. He keeps going, bracing a hand on the mattress as he pushes his gloved hand further up — thumb digging briefly into bone, fingers lightly tracing circles under the knee. The hem of the white shirt catches the garter ruffles as it lifts; Atsumu teases leather over sensitive skin, grinning when Kiyoomi squeezes his legs tighter. The glare sent his way doesn’t dampen his enjoyment in the slightest.</p><p>“Look at’cha,” he repeats, slipping a thumb under the garter. The deep red looks delicious against Kiyoomi’s skin. He runs his thumb across the indentations, then jerks his hand, snapping the garter back into place. Kiyoomi flinches, high sound caught in his throat. Atsumu bites down on his lip.</p><p>“All a’ this,” he adds, shifting back down near Kiyoomi’s feet, “and it’s all for me.”</p><p>“Don’t get cocky,” Kiyoomi snipes, kicking out. Atsumu catches the offending ankle and laughs, muffling his chuckle in warm skin. He glances at Kiyoomi sidewise before parting his lips, dragging his open mouth up the curve of Kiyoomi’s calf. His other hand curls under Kiyoomi’s free leg, holding him still.</p><p>That earns him a growl. “Miya<em>.</em>”</p><p>Atsumu actually laughs, shifting his grip to tug Kiyoomi’s legs around his waist. His hands skim up long legs, leaning forward until their hips are almost flush. “Stubborn,” he chides, clicking his tongue. “Patience is a virtue, <em> Kiyoomi</em>.”</p><p>Kiyoomi opens his mouth to retort, but Atsumu chooses that moment to grind down. Even through two layers of clothing, the friction has him biting back a groan. Kiyoomi can’t hold in his gasp, back arching off the bed. Atsumu does it again, then drops Kiyoomi’s legs to the mattress.</p><p>“‘Sides,” he goes on, as if nothing had happened, “I wanna unwrap my present first.”</p><p>He cuts off any further banter by kissing Kiyoomi, hard, filthy. He can feel Kiyoomi fight to keep his arms overhead, to <em> not touch. </em>It brings back his smirk as he tugs Kiyoomi’s bottom lip between his teeth, as he reaches for the first button of the dress shirt.</p><p>“Yer gorgeous like this,” he murmurs, words hushed, hot on the sharp cut of Kiyoomi’s jaw. He teases the first button open, teases fingers over the newly-exposed collarbone underneath. The second follows just as slowly, Atsumu sinking teeth into Kiyoomi’s neck. “Always gets to me,” and the third button opens, baring the pretty blush of Kiyoomi’s skin and more dark red lace. “When ya get all riled up,” fourth button now, and Kiyoomi is writhing under him. Atsumu grins wicked as he drags his mouth down Kiyoomi’s throat, following the path his hands had taken. “All from bein’ touched.”</p><p>“<em>Miya,</em>” half-bite, half-whine, all badly-concealed desperation.</p><p>“Patience,” he scolds, biting into Kiyoomi’s shoulder hard enough to make him choke on a cry. Atsumu’s thighs and core are straining from the effort of holding himself up, of leaning over Kiyoomi with only his hands touching. He’s so hard he’s aching. But it’s worth it to push the shirt open and drink in the view — rumpled fabric, burgundy lace; a flush of color over taut skin that Atsumu wants to smudge, to deepen. Kiyoomi looks a mess and all Atsumu’s done is touch him.</p><p>He’s breathtaking. Atsumu has never been one for prayer, but perhaps this is what it means to worship — to have Kiyoomi laid out in their bed, all the lines of him as if sketched in fine pencil, like something for Atsumu to consume. He runs gloved hands up Kiyoomi’s thighs, then around to cup his ass; feels the body underneath him shudder at the touch. Shifts himself down, lower, littering bites and kisses down Kiyoomi’s navel until the edge where lace covers skin.</p><p>Kiyoomi gets no warning before Atsumu ducks his head and bites into his thigh, right above the garter. Atsumu’s quick to pin him down, catching his hips in a bruising grip and relishing Kiyoomi’s broken cry. He teases reddened skin with his tongue, then marks a dark bruise after. One hand curls around Kiyoomi’s leg, then Atsumu presses an open mouth to lace and sucks.</p><p>He <em> feels </em>the tremor run through Kiyoomi’s body, the way he immediately tries to rock his hips down, bodily demanding more. The lace is already damp, and Atsumu can taste Kiyoomi on it. He pushes further, dragging his tongue over rough thread, sealing his mouth and judiciously using his teeth. Fairly soon the fabric is delectably wet, and Atsumu grins in satisfaction as he pulls back, making Kiyoomi whine.</p><p>It’s almost a damn shame to take the knickers off, but better things await. He leaves the lingerie dangling off one ankle, leaning back in before Kiyoomi can catch his breath. His tongue pushes into Kiyoomi, drags over the slick hole; his fingers tease over all the skin he can reach. He knows how overwhelming it is — the feel of the leather over Kiyoomi’s sensitive body, the act of being touched by Atsumu’s hands; Atsumu’s mouth on him, clever tongue put to good use.</p><p>“You can come like this, can’t ya?” Atsumu tells Kiyoomi, looking up just enough to stare up the man’s torso and catch his wrecked expression. “Gonna be real good for me, won’t ya.”</p><p>“<em>Fuck </em>you—” Kiyoomi gasps, hips jerking as Atsumu licks up his entrance then slips his tongue back inside.</p><p>“Other way round, I think,” Atsumu mutters, amused, and then he’s tugging one glove off with his teeth. He fumbles for the lube lying somewhere on the sheets, slicking up his fingers. Then he’s teasing one over Kiyoomi’s hole, barely slipping inside before moving away, rolling a thumb over a swollen clit. His other hand holds Kiyoomi open, rubbing circles into taut muscle, knowing the two different sensations will only rile Kiyoomi up more.</p><p>Sure enough — “Miya<em>.</em>”</p><p>“What?” Atsumu asks sweetly, stroking with two fingers now. He feels Kiyoomi try to buck his hips, try for <em> more</em>, but Atsumu just pins him back down. “Didja want something?”</p><p>“<em>Atsumu.</em>”</p><p>Always so arousing, hearing his name like this. “Ask for it.”</p><p>“Come <em> on</em>—”</p><p>Atsumu digs his thumb in, and Kiyoomi’s voice cracks in three places on a whine.</p><p>“<em>Ask.</em>”</p><p>“Your hands—” Kiyoomi makes a choked sound, fighting against Atsumu’s grip. “Fingers — in<em>side </em>—”</p><p>Atsumu gives in at that, easing one finger in first, clumsily adding more lube. Soon enough Kiyoomi is wet, and open, and two fingers become three as Atsumu brings him closer to the edge. He knows well how to do this now; knows how to play Kiyoomi’s body, how to drive him wild. When he leans back down, presses his mouth between Kiyoomi’s legs and sucks and drags his tongue just like this—</p><p>“<em>Atsumu</em>,” Kiyoomi gasps, thighs squeezing around his head, and then he comes.</p><p>It’s almost electric, the thrill of wrecking Kiyoomi like this. Atsumu works him through it, fingers and mouth unrelenting until Kiyoomi whines his name, broken and plaintive. He pulls up, swiping his bare hand over his mouth, breath short and grin filthy.</p><p>Kiyoomi looks absolutely debauched, skin flushed and hair matted to his forehead. He’s gorgeous, rose and gold in the late afternoon sun, lingerie a sharp contrast on his body. Atsumu shoves his pants down his thighs, slicking himself up as he drinks in the sight underneath him. And the way Kiyoomi <em> looks </em>at him, watching, expression dark as his eyes flick from Atsumu’s hand on his cock up to his face; the way Kiyoomi’s legs drop further open in invitation—</p><p>Atsumu takes it, sinking into Kiyoomi and leaning down to catch his mouth in a clumsy kiss. It’s hot and wet and perfect, and he isn’t going to last very long but he doesn’t care. His gloved hand hitches Kiyoomi’s thigh over his hip. The room echoes each snap of his hips. Kiyoomi tilts his head and Atsumu ducks in to taste salt. When he finally comes, it’s with Kiyoomi’s name bitten into the staccato of his pulse.</p><p>It takes both of them several moments to catch their breath. Atsumu drops to his elbows, caging Kiyoomi in, face still buried in the crook of his neck. When he’s less shaky, he sits up enough so he can take off the other glove and undo the tie around Kiyoomi’s wrists. Gentle fingers rub careful circles into skin, easing sore joints. When Atsumu looks down to check if Kiyoomi’s okay, the other man tilts his head up for a kiss.</p><p>As in everything, Atsumu is helpless to give.</p><p>They make out aimlessly, for a while. Atsumu tugs at Kiyooomi’s sex-mussed hair; Kiyoomi runs those soft-wing fingers over his body. They won’t get many more idle days like this; their post-Olympics vacation is drawing to an end. Soon they’ll return to training, and their respective endorsement obligations, but for now Atsumu savors their little bubble of existence. He rather likes Kiyoomi like this — loose-limbed and lazy; not quite subdued, but softer at the edges. Pliant.</p><p>He skims his hands back down, slipping his fingers under elastic and toying with the garters. The lingerie was a pleasant and adventurous surprise, and one he wouldn’t mind a repeat of. When Kiyoomi raises a questioning eyebrow at his grin, he tugs on one garter with a quiet laugh.</p><p>“If I trade for it,” he muses, “would ya wear this for me again?”</p><p>That earns him a whack on the head and an unimpressed huff, but Atsumu can read the provocation in Kiyoomi’s expression. Kiyoomi leans in, until their lips almost touch, until Atsumu can almost feel the words brush against him.</p><p>“Work for it and you’ll find out.”</p>
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